


Anymore

by suchabeautifuldisaster



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 20:58:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6536032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suchabeautifuldisaster/pseuds/suchabeautifuldisaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My own headcanon on how the Matt and Karen scene went in season 1, episode 12. </p><p>I do not own anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anymore

She’s seen people fall apart in front of her before.

 

Her mother, mascara creating blurred spider webs down her cheeks, mouth a messy smear of

 

candy apple red lipstick and the dark maroon of blood caked on her gritted teeth.

 

Her younger brother, usually all bravado and broad shoulders and picture perfect smile,

 

Back sliding down the waiting room wall , ass hitting the scraped tile, long tapering fingers

 

gripping his blonde strands  _ so... So tightly _ ….

 

Foggy, his sky blue eyes filled with all of the kindness in the world,

 

His warm hands cupping her face gently…

 

Face pinched with anger and fear, big hands slamming on her desk…

 

She knows what it’s like to be in the presence of broken people.

 

She’s broken herself, has scrubbed furiously at raw skin to erase what she's done, staring blankly at her tear-stained face in her shitty bathroom mirror.

 

She had contemplated why life kept hurting her so  _ bad. _

 

For some reason seeing the man in front of her is different from all of that yet exactly the same.

 

Maybe it’s because her eyes work and her words don’t have double meanings and the weight on

 

her shoulders isn’t the size of the corrupt Hell’s Kitchen.

 

Maybe it’s because something about Matt just keeps reeling her in,  _ closer and closer and closer. _

 

She stopped trying to untie the knot around her heart a long time ago.

 

Now she just lets it tug at her every so often, lets it track her gaze too long on the perfect brown

 

swoop of his hair and the jump in the muscles on his arms and her ears never hesitate to prick up

 

when he laughs…

 

_ God, _ his soft mouth when he’s smiling at some dumb joke that Foggy made under his breath, or…

 

_ “I like the sound of your voice.” _

 

Matt heaves out a shaky sigh, presses the back of his head against the doorframe,

 

his handsome face contorted in agony, in the pain of  _ I'm all alone _ in this big,

 

terrifying, scary world mapped out on his features.

 

“I can’t take another  _ step _ ,” he croaks, barely over a whisper, so close to falling, to breaking….

 

That's all it takes.

 

She walks towards him in hurried steps, pushes herself into his space because she can’t help

 

herself, the knot tightening its grip around her rapidly beating heart.

 

She slides one arm around his waist, her free hand curling into the little wisps of hair at his neck.

 

Her lips move against his ear like they were always meant to sneak words of comfort there.

 

_ “You’re not alone, Matt. You never were,”  _ she soothes, her voice surprisingly calm, even though

 

her body feels too hot and the whole room is like a heavy blanket, suffocating her with the illusion of safety.

 

A choked up sob is ripped out of his throat, breaths coming harsh and fast on the skin of her throat.

 

He’s suddenly close, almost  _ too close _ , strong arms becoming a barricade that locks her to him.

 

She shuts her eyes, mumbling something else, something that says  _ it’s okay _ and _ I’m sorry too _

 

and  _ we’ll get through this _ …  _ we’ll get through this. _

 

For a while, she stops thinking. She shuts down, becoming the girl who is still afraid to

 

sleep alone at night and wears a smile that hasn’t been genuine in a long, long time. She

 

becomes that girl who watched her mom throw their cell phone at the wall and screamed at the

 

top of her lungs before curling up into a sad little ball of shattered dreams on the dingy brown

 

carpet.

 

She’s that same fifteen-year-old girl that left her brother in a heap at the hospital because the sadness was too much,

 

too much for her to stay and try to fix…. she didn’t want to be a fixer anymore.

 

_ I killed someone last night. _

 

This time, it’s different. Because this embrace between two lonely people aren’t stitches made

 

with careful hands on a deep cut, nor are they a balm on chapped lips.

 

She kisses his cheek, and he tucks his face in the warm spot where her neck meets

 

shoulder, leans back against the wall till she’s cradled against his body. They breathe, in, out.

 

In, out. In, out.

 

_ In, out. _

 

_ I’m tired, I’m so fucking tired. _

 

_ In, out, in out. _

 

_ I’m not alone. _

 

_ I’m not alone. _

 

“We aren’t alone, Matt,” she mumbles.

 

After a second, she feels the press of his mouth against her skin, forming a word that she strains to make out.

 

But she’s almost positive he’s telling her  _ “Anymore.” _


End file.
